Flannel - Extended version
by DeansBabyBird
Summary: This is the extended version of this weeks E/O Drabble challenge and the word this week was Flannel. This is set after season 9 episode 10 so beware spoilers and also here be Destiel so turn away if you choose.


**I write each week in the E/O Drabble challenge and this weeks word was Flannel. It was too sweet a scene to stop at 100 words. Spoilers for season 9 episode 10 - please turn back if you are un-spoiled. Also here be Destiel so avert your eyes if you wish. **

**Flannel - Extended Version **

"You are not being truthful, Dean, I know you are injured. I feel it emanating from you."

Cas's head tilts to the side studying the hunter where he sits stiffly on the side of the bed and the gesture is so familiar, so achingly welcome that Dean's resolve almost weakens.

It seams like he spends most of his waking hours thinking about, and missing that idiosyncratic tilt, those eyes so infuriatingly blue that they blind him to any other gaze and that voice, like warm honeyed gravel. He wants to admit that he hurts cause, if he's honest he's hurting like a sonofabitch and he knows he's gonna struggle with the sutures his wound no doubt needs.

But he doesn't. He doesn't come clean and confess that the creature caught him good and proper cause no one was there to watch his back because...well, he daren't. See, he knows if he starts to speak there's no telling what might actually come out of his mouth, what secrets he might be tempted to spill. What pleas he might make about how fucking lonely he is out here on his own.

So he settles for trying to sit a bit straighter so he looks less...wrecked, less broken as he tugs discretely at the old flannel he wears trying to pull it closed over his bloody t-shirt hoping that Cas won't see how beat up he really is.

"I'm fine, Cas..."

He whispers and even though he tries hard to sound like he believes it himself he knows it's utterly unconvincingly and so he's not surprised when the angel frowns and steps closer to him.

"Why will you not let me help you?"

Castiel's voice betrays the concern he clearly has he but also growls with the frustration he feels at the willful hunter's dogmatic refusal of his assistance and Dean can't help but smile a little cause knowing that someone at least cares enough to frown reminds him that he might not have fucked up his entire life, just most of it.

The smile only lasts for a moment though cause then he remembers Sam's parting words to him, after Gadriel, on that bridge in the pouring rain. He remembers the soft simmer of anger and disappointment and the look of repeated betrayal in Sam's eyes and suddenly he wonders if he'll ever have anything to smile about again? Or if he deserves it anyway?

The angel sees all this of course cause if there's anyone who knows this complex conundrum that is Dean Winchester it's Castiel and he stretches out his compassionate hand toward the hunter, seeking to first diagnose and then heal his injuries. It's an autonomic gesture. He is, after all, a creature of the Lord and though, in His service the angel has taken countless lives he has also saved many more and thus he is horrified when Dean rears back, shaking his head determinedly as he abjures that touch, even though he craves nothing more.

The sudden movement jars at his wounds, pulling forth a sharp gasp and dilating his eyes with pain.

"No...d...don't..."

Dean stutters as his hand snakes under the edge of his thick shirt, pressing carefully to the weeping wound and there's more blood, much more blood than is okay. He needs to tend to it, clean the wound and see how bad the tear the creature's claws left actually is but before he can do that he needs the room to stop spinning and it won't.

"Dean?"

The angel's voice is soft with solicitude and the injured man latches onto it, uses it to balance the room's axis and still the nausea that threatens to overwhelm him. He raises his head, seeking Cas's face and finds that his companion has moved closer to him again as he wavered so now he stands virtually between Dean's parted legs.

"Why will you not let me heal you?"

The hunter shakes his head and presses his hand closer to the wound as the fire their flares cruelly. He can't find his voice, all that is in his throat are suppressed whimpers.

"Is this because you vowed to Sam that you wouldn't drag anyone else into this?"

Dean swallows and tries to get his rapid breathing under control. He'll be able to find a plausible denial once he can speak coherently but the burn in his belly just won't subside and he knows Castiel must be able to hear the little hiccups of pain he's trying to hide.

"Should it not be my choice, Dean?"

He feels the angel's hand soft on his shoulder and he looks up, totally sure that he's going to hold the line. It's absolutely what he means to do. To reinforce that he's poison, and that if Cas knows what's good for him, he'll leave, walk away and never look back. Just forget about him...forever.

At least that's what his head tells him to do but then he sees Cas's face, the face of the man (being) he loves so fiercely that it makes his head swim and suddenly rationality flies out the window.

"Cas..."

He can only get out the one word before his voice hitches into a sob and he leans unconsciously forward, the arm not pressed to his wound reaching around the angel's waist. He turns his face up to the angel's and the look of loss and regret and loneliness in his expressive eyes is devastating.

"It's alright, Dean."

Castiel closes his arms about his love, wrapping him in the protective barrier he knows Dean needs.

"You are not alone. If you will let me, I will always stand at your side."

He feels the hunter's head drop to his chest, Dean's cheek wet against his shirt front.

"Just come home."

He tightens his grip, trying to telegraph the loyalty, need, desire, adoration he has for this perversely wonderful man through his touch but the hunter's head stays resolutely bowed.

"Please."

Castiel murmurs as he lifts a hand to Dean's face, cupping his chin and raising the hunter's gaze to his own.

"Please, Dean. Come home."

He can see the want in the emerald depths before him but also hesitancy and fear.

"Sam?"

Dean whispers and the angel nods seriously.

"We will find a way to work it out with Sam."

Dean's breath hitches, uncertainty tightening his mouth as he goes to answer but the angel stills his lips with his thumb.

"We will find a way, I promise you..."

He re-emphasizes emphatically, commanding the hunter's skittish gaze.

"Anyway, I ask you to come home for me. Not for your brother, Dean, but for me."

The hunter's eyes widen as he contemplates the angel's words.

"I need you to come home to me."

His words are unequivocal but for surety he leans down slowly and presses his lips with infinite gentleness to Dean's.

"Be with me."

He whispers...

"Please be mine..."

**ends**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, I'd be pleased to know. **


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